


Fate's Entourage

by theangrywarlock



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23141158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangrywarlock/pseuds/theangrywarlock
Summary: Enjolras/Grantaire 'centric drabbles. Oftentimes featuring Les Amis. Ranging from the trite to the fantastic. Mostly just me expressing my love for my favorite pairing in a variety of prompts. These range from one-shots to several-parters, from serious to crack, from slight AUs to modern times.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Joly/Bossuet Laigle
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

Anyone who has ever spoken out publicly knows that there are risk factors. Especially if one is embroiled within an underground war.

For one, you always had to know when you were being followed. And even then, you couldn't simply run away from your pursuers. You had to keep everything under control, as though you were innocent.

For another, you had to know how to take a bullet. This was a bit more complicated since upon the human body, if you had to take a bullet anywhere, it would be in the ass. There was more fat there, less nerves to accidentally hit, and the pain wouldn't be as intense. There was no internal organs that would bleed out while waiting to get the bullet removed.

There was one other issue when it came to bullets and that was to never remove them right away. When a bullet is fired and enters into the skin, it's hot. Should one remove that bullet right away, there's a risk factor of burning the skin and nerves within the hole. A person could do far more damage removing a bullet than leaving it in there, provided it wasn't inside a major internal organ. That being said, if a bullet was inside a major internal organ, you shouldn't even be touching the victim. You should be getting him to the hospital.

Enjolras had recited these rules to Grantaire before due to his friend's desire to try and keep Enjolras safe. There were plenty more rules to memorize as safety was paramount and they needed all men they could get for this army.

Grantaire, however, had taken a bullet. He also had something precious few people had when taking a bullet - time. He had seen the gun, had time enough to run to its intended victim, and time enough to catch the bullet with the part of his body that could handle said projectile.

Enjolras was rather proud at how Grantaire not only remembered what he had told him, but was quick enough to apply it. He wasn't surprised, of course. He always knew Grantaire had potential.

So he held Grantaire's hand as the bullet was carefully removed at the hospital. "Someone who wanted to start a riot," Enjolras had explained to the doctor. Grantaire was currently on laudanum and seeing talking penguins everywhere.

Others would be amused at the situation. Enjolras took it in stride. Grantaire had taken a bullet meant for him. This is not what was important. He knew the depth of Grantaire's devotion and love. What was important to Enjolras was that Grantaire took the bullet in such a way that would ensure his survival for another day. He did not throw himself madly into danger on impulse. He thought about his action and then moved.

Grantaire was starting to believe that his life was worth living. And through his speech on the penguins' migratory habits into France, Grantaire let Enjolras know that he fully intended on standing by Enjolras' side, bullet in the ass or no.

The less worry he saw within Enjolras' eyes, the happier Grantaire could be. And if his life was such a treasured force to Enjolras, then they both deserved more than dying due to some incendiary idiot on the street.

"With you," he said, gripping Enjolras' hand tightly, "or not at all."


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't like it."

"You don't need to." Combeferre's voice was gentle. He didn't like these sorts of conversations. For the most part, Enjolras' choices made life a great deal easier on him. While Courfeyrac and Bahorel would speak endlessly on mistresses and issues on love, Enjolras kept himself to himself. Joly and Bossuet had one another to speak to, but Joly would go to Combeferre for help on his studies and other personal matters and Bossuet would go to him for queries on Joly and how to handle an overworked physician in training. Jehan had his own personal quirks that he enjoyed extending to all of his friends, and sometimes he would show up unannounced at Combeferre's place in order to show him a new dance. Combeferre never questioned the matter. It was Jehan, after all.

Feuilly was the other one he could count on to keep himself in check. If Feuilly had an issue, he would often take it directly to Enjolras, and even then it normally dealt with the raising of weaponry or the recruitment of the working men. Which meant Enjolras would discuss the matter between Combeferre and Courfeyrac. It was business, never personal.

Enjolras was rarely personal unless Combeferre was the one breaching the subject matter with him.

Right now, the matter concerned Grantaire and his advances. The cynic had started disavowing drinking and moving closer and closer into Enjolras' personal space. Loathe as Combeferre was to indulge Grantaire at the expense of his friend, he did have to give the man some credit.

The problem was that Enjolras wasn't exactly sure what to do.

"I've allowed him close. I speak to him of the ideals. He knows what we fight for, but he doesn't believe in anything," Enjolras was saying. "I don't know how we would be right for one another. It would be best if I just left the relationship."

Combeferre ordinarily would have accepted this news as joyful, but at the quiet sadness within his friend, he found himself saying quite the opposite. "He believes in you. I think he's akin to me in a few regards. He must see the truth to know it. It's not enough to understand theories and conjecture for him. Just as I would've give credence one way or another toward the supernatural without physical proof, so would he guard himself against the folly of blind faith and trust. But it's to you he looks, not the Republic. And you are, as you have said before, the gateway. You can open up the path, yes, but you can't take him by hand and lead him through it. He has to do that on his own."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then you have someone who will stand by you regardless. Just as I would stand by you even if I didn't believe."

"This isn't a cult based on me," Enjolras argued, though his temper had long since left him and Combeferre was grateful that his friend no longer looked so lost.

"No, but you are the one who speaks of truths and freedom and justice. Some people cannot discern the difference between you and the cause. All in all, I'd put that down to you being a credible spokesman."

Enjolras sighed. "You want me to give him another chance."

"I want you to be happy, my friend. At least when it comes to being by your side, he won't be such a disappointment as he is in his political attempts."

After a moment, Enjolras finally nodded and Combeferre let out a breath he had been holding. He could only hope he led Enjolras down the right path. He couldn't stand to see the disappointments piling up between them, and a relationship was always a perilous path when Enjolras' first mistress would always be Patria.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> E/R in the perspective of Gavroche.

**1831**

Gavroche had seen his sister fall for a man once who didn't return her affections. Wondering if it would turn out to be the same way for Grantaire seemed like a sucker's game to him. Love and romance were all well and good when in their place, but right now, they had a revolution to win! Besides, what was the point in making googly eyes at someone if he never noticed you?

Then again, sometimes Enjolras didn't notice him either. So he had to adopt higher measures of getting the guy's attention.

Why didn't Grantaire just yank on his tailcoat or swing on his arm? That always worked for him.

**1832**

He had more of an idea now when it came to love. Eponine was still watching over Marius and Marius was watching over someone else. On his own personal front, he had two little brothers to look after and feed. Someone had to make sure they would be all right. The streets were tough to live on, and it made things easier when you had someone by your side.

Maybe that was one of the things that appealed to Grantaire. He just wanted company. Though it seemed like Enjolras' company was what he was trying to go for.

Still, there was a revolution to win! It was time to remove the government! Gavroche hoped that once the king had been taken down and the new government put in place, he'd be able to keep his elephant. Enjolras promised him that he would and he believed him.

Now if only he could convince Enjolras to give him a gun.

**1833**

The republic wasn't so bad. It was different, sure, and people seemed to be a lot happier when they agreed on how it would go. Gavroche kept his elephant and food was starting to become more plentiful, but he wasn't so sure he could keep his brothers safe from harm for too long, especially when the smallest took ill.

Grantaire was the one who fetched Combeferre for him to look over his brother. Enjolras had been there as well, and in order to not think about his brother's illness, Gavroche focused his attention on the strange interaction between Enjolras and Grantaire. They spoke in hushed whispers and Grantaire's face reddened when Enjolras touched his hand.

Grantaire reminded him of Eponine.

But Enjolras wasn't much like Marius. For one thing, the guy had guns and liked stirring the masses.

**1834**

Gavroche could remember the time before the revolution with startling clarity. Enjolras was pleased with this. "You'll be the reason for these things to never happen again. A final generation of gamin." Gavroche liked the sound of that. It made him feel special.

The street was still his home, but now he had a bed to reside rather than in the elephant. His brothers were well taken care of, and an education was being provided for him at Combeferre's insistence. Of course, he'd have much rather be off and about, gathering weapons or listening in on group meetings around the city regarding politics and the state of the Republic, but Enjolras told him that he'd have to learn how to read and write so that he could cuss people out that way rather than verbally.

Grantaire was a permanent fixture around the household and Gavroche didn't mind that. The two of them could do whatever they wanted so long as rent was paid on time and they kept the door shut whenever they went into the bedroom. Besides, it felt nice sometimes having Grantaire so concerned about his well-being. He would always say the same thing to him, of course.

"I'll be fine. I can take care of myself."

Which was true. He was Gavroche, child of the streets. But he liked having a nest to rest his wings, and he liked knowing that he was helping to keep this weird little family together.


End file.
